


Droit Du Seigneur

by Rubynye



Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Mirror Universe, Multi, Teacher-Student Relationship, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-28
Updated: 2011-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Now let's see how you work together."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Droit Du Seigneur

"Come in, Cadet." The Captain lounges at splay-legged ease in his desk chair, a ravishing brunette standing at stiff attention beside him. "Congratulations. I heard as of yesterday you're assured to commence."

"Only a month of assassination attempts left before graduation," the Cadet jokes, to make the Captain's knifeslash smile tilt into a grin, with a wary eye on the motionless Girl. At least, he's trying to keep it wary; she has satiny skin and a goddess's sculptured face, long black lashes screen her eyes and highlights flash off the heavy fall of her hair. He's seen her, he knows, across a lecture hall or two, but sadly never any nearer until now, and she gleams even under the office-standard cold track lighting.

"You let anyone take you out and I'll kick your ass myself." The Captain sits up, and the Cadet clamps down on a reflexive jolt. This Girl actually drew the whole of his attention for a moment, he realizes as he slaps on a grin to show he's listening. It's not just that she's hot, though she undeniably is; he wants to figure out how she distracted him so completely by merely _breathing_ , but losing track of his mentor isn't a mistake he'll make twice. "You make it through and onto my ship," the Captain continues as he stands, coming around his desk, "and she'll be your primary navigator."

The Cadet's pulse ticks into familiar overdrive as his mentor steps up to him, chest to chest; it spikes as the Girl's silk-crinkled eyelids sweep up and she gives them a level look from stunning eyes. "Thank you, Sir." He manages not to stammer as his mouth goes dry, meeting her gaze over the Captain's broad black-jacketed shoulder. "I look forward to manning the _Invincible_ 's Helm with you, Cadet--?"

"I'm sure you'll be a good team." The Captain rumbles in self-satisfaction, halfway to a purr; the Cadet considers whether rolling his eyes will get him the good kind or the bad kind of Captainly attention, and when his mentor turns to beckon the Girl, he rolls them anyway for her benefit, hoping to enliven the smile she'll have to offer up with a smidge of amused solidarity, maybe even to charm her into giving him her name.

She doesn't smile. She paces towards them like a high-strung creature across a cage, nervous tension in every graceful line of her shoulders and sleek midriff and long smooth legs. The Captain waves again, sarcastically cheerful, and her full mouth thins minutely before resuming its expressionlessness. The Cadet's fingers slide against each other, dampened by his sweaty palms; he realizes he's afraid, when he'd thought the Academy had burned all fear out of him these last three years. Perhaps he's afraid of this Girl like a walking weapon, but she looks from the Captain to him, her mouth still and her eyes widening, and he thinks he might be afraid for her, when he hasn't had much sympathy to spare anyone in a very, very long time.

"Look at you two, a matched set." The Captain sets a hand on the small of the Girl's back and pushes her a step nearer the Cadet; she smells spare, clean and faintly sweet, and his mouth goes from dry to watering. "Gorgeous. Now let's see how you work together. Strip."

The Cadet's used to that command by now, he's been fucked over a dozen times in this office and more often than not he even gets to enjoy it, but he pauses with his hands on his collar fastening when he notices that the Girl has only moved to swivel her head towards the Captain. "Sir," she says, her voice rich alto, "I fail to discern the reason--"

"Cadet," the Captain interrupts, his voice silken and cordial enough to make the Cadet's belly clench in reminiscent alarm, "Are you defying me?"

"No, Sir." The Girl's skin and scent are warmly Human, but her intonation is as crisp and even as a Vulcan's. She strips off her top, skirt, and boots with a swift economy of movement; out of her cadet reds, she's beautiful like a field of fresh snow or an expanse of sere desert, tall and rounded yet without a single concession to gravity. Adrenaline crackles through the Cadet's bloodstream, he's so hard he almost hurts himself getting his pants open, but he looks into her carven face and shimmering eyes, and though the Captain's taught him by word and example that he shouldn't care, he does want her to want him, so much he can taste it.

He kicks his boots behind him with an artfully careless flourish, hopes that twitch at the corner of her mouth is a submerged smile, holds his hands out in empty offering and says, simply, "Hi."

The Girl scans him up and down as if there's a tricorder behind her eyes. The Captain laughs behind them, and the Cadet spares a moment's shock to notice that he's bare to the waist already; usually when his mentor starts undressing it sets off his internal red alert. She's distracted him again. "Always the charmer," the Captain comments, pressing his palms together. "Go on, then."

The Girl inhales once, quickly, and bursts into motion like an assassin dancing, swinging her hands up as she lunges. The Cadet instinctively shields himself with his, backing up the last two steps to the wall. He catches her wrists -- she shoves against his hold, his hands twist to counter, she consciously stills, a whole spar in three heartbeats -- and she rears up on her toes and hits his lips with hers, hard and fast and crackling as a punch.

The Cadet blinks. The Girl freezes in front of him, motionless from her wrists inside his fists down to her rigid belly a millimeter away from his dick. She exhales, slowly, carefully, and her breath brushes softly across his face as the skin of her belly silkily brushes his dickhead and _fuck_ , but his eyes want to roll back in his head. "Mmm, Clear and direct," he murmurs, his mouth two millimeters from hers, and drags its corner up into a smirk, unfolding his fingers individually from around her wrists. "I like your style."

She blinks, and then nods; fight-reflexes still alert, he suppresses a flinch as she sets one hand on his cheek, and she lays the other one on his face much more slowly. Her fingers are long and cool but her palms are moist too, and he grins wider into them. "Thank you," she says tonelessly, and slams her head forward for another hard kiss.

"Whoa!" He ducks sideways, his hair scraping the wall, restraining his fist from the vicious swing that usually goes with such a move.. "Uh, wait a sec, just a sec." As slowly as she did, he sets his hand between her sharp shoulderblades, the other on the deliciously curved small of her back, and tugs her flush with his body, his chest swelling against her tender breasts, his dick nestling happily against the low padded round of her belly. "Like this," he murmurs, looking down into her wide eyes, and deliberately makes himself close his as he kisses her.

He feels her lashes flutter against his cheekbone; her mouth stays firm for several moments, then melts, bit by bit, easing to plushness. He moves his lips a little and hers move with his, flexing and parting, so he tries a bit of tongue. He hasn't gone this slowly since that first-year he had during Orientation, but his restraint is rewarded when she slides her tongue to meet his, sweeping it up and over in tentative exploration, and then sighs into his mouth and presses up hard, opening to him in a sudden, delicious rush. He pulls her closer and concedes a moan to her, chasing after her raw sweetness as they start necking in earnest.

A loud clap stops them, and she stiffens so rigidly she trembles. The Cadet looks up, tracking motion before he realizes it, and his hand flies up to catch whatever his now-naked mentor just tossed him. It's a sachet of lube. He looks over the Girl's tensed shoulder and the Captain gestures sharply, ordering them onwards, his bared teeth gleaming even brighter than his dick inside his sliding fist.

"Sir," the Cadet asks, picturing the Captain's taut grin below empty eyes with the Girl's dagger hilted in his chest, "what's the rush?" Her scent's just starting to strengthen, raw musk and honey, and the Cadet was thinking of kissing her until she's slicked both their thighs, of kneeling and licking his way into her, of seeing what it would take to make her even voice pitch and roll into billowing cries. Maybe the Captain intends to use him to punish her, but he's mutinously certain down in his belly that he'd rather please her.

"Feeling frisky today?" The Captain strides forward, dick bobbing out of sight, and neither the Girl nor the Cadet move a millimeter as he skims his hand up over her shoulder and settles it around the Cadet's throat. "Since when do you need to ask?"

Though his pulse bounces against the Captain's broad pressing thumbpad, the Cadet glances ostentatiously at the Girl; her mouth is expressionless again but it's red and tenderly puffy, and her gaze is steady on him, infinity in her eyes. She slides her hands along his cheeks, winding them behind his neck without once touching the Captain, who rumbles and pushes a little closer. The Cadet takes a breath, the Captain's sharper musk merging with the Girl's scent to roll heat through his belly and make his dick twitch, and says, "If you intend to break my neck you're holding it wrong."

"Don't tempt me, kid," the Captain answers, pulling his hand away as his laughter vibrates through the Girl pressed between them. His eyes are flinty bright as he ducks his head to slide his smile along her shoulder; she shudders, her lashes flickering but not falling, and her unwavering gaze hold the Cadet's as she reaches down and pulls her fingers through his, taking the lube from his hand. She rotates it in hers, closes her fingers around it and crushes it open, and the Captain snickers and drags his tongue up her nape.

She shudders again, and the Cadet feels himself shiver in involuntary answer; she drops the husked packet and reaches for him with that strong, glistening hand, and he swallows hard and chokes out, "Ease up on that grip a little?"

A curt nod is his only warning before cool, precise fingers wrap slickly around him, her touch too wet and too light. His hips buck without his conscious command, seeking more, she watches her hand and he stares down at the gleaming top of her head, the Captain's hooded eyes glittering on the edge of his vision as she tightens her grip into something wrenchingly sweet and he gasps the sort of helpless noise he used to make on being hit. Her other hand trembles minutely behind his nape, holding its position as she strokes him thoroughly, up and down and up, base to tip.

"Shit," escapes the Cadet's gritted teeth, and the Girl looks up, head tilting a little as she evaluates his expression, scanning his face with those laser-beam eyes. The Captain huffs, her eyes flare and narrow above her unmoving lips, and the Cadet's mouth waters towards kissing her again but they probably wouldn't be permitted.

"Put your hand on my hip," she tells him, her voice as cool as water as she slings her wet hand behind his neck and tries to pull herself up.

It kind of hurts and makes him laugh. "Hey, easy," he tells her, gripping her waist instead. "One --" She jumps before he can count, so he goes with it, lifting her so she can shift a thigh up and he can snug himself between them. He nudges her and she trusts herself to his hold enough to reach down again and part herself for him, her fingers quick and precise and ruthless, her only reactions a little shiver as she adjusts his angle, a deeper shudder and a hiss as she sinks down onto him.

He's louder, and he's not ashamed of that. "Oh my fuck," he groans and bites his lip. She's -- unbelievable, he almost thinks she can't be Human for a moment, she's so hot around him, so clingingly tight. She could be wetter if the Captain knew what patience was, but the Cadet gets a hold of himself, pressing his face to the sleek crown of her head as she puffs warm breath against his chest, and thinks he can manage to make this good for her.

But the Captain rumbles over the squelch of another lube packet, and the Girl shakes once again, harder, differently. The Cadet looks up past the arched curve of her neck to see the Captain's eyebrows pulling together, a moment before he feels her breath shredding against his shoulder, sees the Captain's jaw tensing as he pushes slowly into her. He likes to slam right in, the Cadet knows from experience, for him this is merciful restraint; even so, the Cadet bites his lip and tucks his hand a little further around the Girl's waist, spreading his fingers in a fumbling caress, just a little worried that if he let himself speak he'd tell his mentor to stop.

Which would not go over well.

"Come on, let me in," the Captain growls through gritted teeth, the Girl hisses between hers, and the Cadet can feel him sliding in alongside, rounded and heavy and hot. The Girl gulps a wild, throat-stopping noise, her nails digging searing dents into the back of the Cadet's neck.

She can have them. He needs them. His orgasm's already writhing into existence at the base of his spine, ready to surge up out of him, but he _knows_ he can't yet even before the Captain rumbles triumph and skims firm fingers up his thigh, trailing fingertips fondly along the burn scar he phasered onto the Cadet's hip, and settles a hand around his waist. "Don't you dare come before I do," is the order as the Captain leans onto them, and as the Cadet's back flattens against the wall he's not surprised. So aroused his eyes are watering, but unsurprised.

"Yes, Sir," the Cadet gasps, pressing one hand to the wall behind him. The Captain's belly tenses against the back of his other wrist as he rolls his hips forward, rocking the Girl up and down around the Cadet, and her chest vibrates with a noise she keeps submerged. "Please," falls out of his mouth, and fire dances along his cheekbones -- soldiers of the Empire do not beg -- but the Captain chuckles indulgently.

"Go on, kiss her." The Captain thrusts harder, and the Cadet hears his own gasp echoed in her voice. She looks up, her cheek sliding along his, her eyes glassy under crinkled, drooping lids, and the Cadet recklessly parts his lips without even knowing what words might fall out of his hazed mind.

Her fingers slide up into his hair, pushing over his scalp, and his eyes roll back. She presses her mouth to his and he moans, and her answering moan is low and dark, sweet and true. The Captain laughs breathlessly, speeding up a little more, and the Cadet feels her groan from inside before it tingles against his lips, and has to squeeze his hand into a fist to keep from coming right that moment.

She tilts his head with her hand and pushes up into the kiss, the Captain pants harshly as he fucks them both, and the Cadet hangs on for dear life, the Girl's waist flexing in his grip and the Captain's fingers tightening on his side. He thinks as he often does of his mentor's avid face flaring into shock just before going deathly slack, rasps his fingernails on the wall and feels the Captain's hand denting his back, the Captain's rumbling growl upon coming as the Girl crushes her only sob into his mouth.

The Cadet moans, reaching up to her cheek, freed to chase overload. He slides his hand down all her silky skin, her nipple tempting in the crease of his palm, her ribs gentle ripples under taut muscles, the curve of her belly damp and plush; he tucks a finger between their bellies to stroke her, and she jerks like she's been Agonized, her cry sharp with surprise. His hips rolling, the Cadet caresses her relentlessly, begging her without words, _come on, come on, come on..._

She comes for him, crying out into him, tensing and easing around him, and he comes so hard his knees nearly give out, the room tipping into vertigo as plasma-hot ecstasy pulses along his nerves, seemingly melting his bones. She gasps against his mouth, soft and warm, then ducks her face under her hair, and the room is too bright when he can push his eyes open again.

The Captain grins brightly as a row of daggers. "Oh, aren't you two sweet." He squeezes the Cadet's waist once more before taking hold of the Girl's hips, and the Cadet braces her as best he can as the Captain tugs free and her breath hitches. "Go on, get dressed."

"Yes, Sir," the Girl answers for them both as the Cadet gulps down another lungful, and when she raises her head her face is marble-still again despite the damp gleam between her collarbones. They cooperatively shift her off him in a sticky slide of wet skin, and as the Captain drops into his desk chair she turns away towards the orderly little pile of her uniform; she pulls on her panties as if her thighs weren't smeared, her bra as if she weren't damp and glowing all over.

As she dresses, her back towards the Captain, her glances flicker towards the Cadet through the screen of her lashes, and as he pulls his uniform on he watches her evaluate him. He considers the precision of her grace and the way their bodies cooperate, examines the shifts in his patterns of thought since he walked into this office, wonders what a blood hormone assay would tell him about the warmth surging through his veins. By the time he's managed to dress himself with stumbling fingers, she's back to parade rest, her uniform neat beneath the disheveled nimbus of her hair.

The Captain's still naked and still grinning, and the Girl stares at nothing as he alternates his gaze between her and the Cadet. "All right, boy. Walk Cadet One back to her dorm, would you? You can use the shower there," and he barks a laugh, "if you can convince the girls to let you."

"One?" Her eyes shift at his questioning look, exactly as if he's called her by name.

"They're pretty lazy about naming on Illyria," the Captain explains, eyes crinkling above his smirk. "They save the effort for their genetics program." Which is famous, or rather, notorious throughout the Empire; the Cadet watches One's eyes flick down and up again, singular and cool, and thinks that she wasn't named out of carelessness, but in truth. "Go on, you're dismissed."

"Yes, Sir," Cadet One says, fist to forehead, and spins precisely on her heel.

"Aye aye, Captain." He follows her out.

As they walk side by side down the hallway and the broad steps, her stride hitches and her lips thin momentarily, a brief crease between her brows prompting him to ask, "Are you injured?"

"Mildly uncomfortable," she answers, looking straight ahead. "I do not need medical assistance."

"Huh." He shuts his mouth after that, before he can make any of too many possible comments, all unforgivably stupid.

"Inexperience is meant to be eradicated, not preserved," she answers his unasked question, without blushing. Still -- there's a moment of appalled silence before he mutters a few favorite Andorian curses about snapped antennae and some guttural oaths gleaned from a Tellarite's last words, because he won't offer One anything as base as untrue regret, but... it's the way of the world, but beside her he feels like he could rule the world, or even change it.

Instead he pauses in the lee of Mintaka Hall, between a service entrance and some overhanging trees, and pauses her with a touch to her elbow. Just as he's taking a breath to ready himself, she surprises him with, "Come in," adding, "I will see that you reach the showers safely," with a smile tucked into the corner of her cheek.

He suspects it'll be devastating and glorious when he finally sees it in full. "One," he answers, then ducks beneath the external stairwell and gives it a quick examination for cameras or bugs, skimming careful fingertips under the overhangs. Finding nothing, he turns to her as she steps underneath to join him, her eyebrows lifting.

The Captain has had pet proteges before, and probably expects to find others after this next five year mission, should they all live so long; as far as anyone knows none of them ever bucked him, but maybe those who tried just ended up buried too deeply to be heard of. The Cadet studies One's mildly puzzled face and knows the risk he's about to take is several kinds of suicidal, but his intuition says, 'Now or never,' and he's always trusted his gut.

When he steps towards her she holds her position, not even leaning away, her hands settled into quiet reserve at her sides. He curves his hands around her firm shoulders, feeling their perfect fit, and buries his face in her silken hair, heavy enough to safely hide secrets. "Captain Archer took me under his wing almost as soon as I arrived," he murmurs, his heart thudding into freefall like it did when he was inside her. "He's shaped me, mentored and guided me. He thinks I'm his in every way. And when we take him down together, you're the one who's going to kill him."

One blinks once against the skin of his throat. She tilts her head back and he looks down to see that smile spread across her face, every bit as gorgeous as he expected and more. "I look forward to that day," she tells him, reaching up to claim his hand. "Cadet, what is your name?"

He gives her his real smile in return, and tells her, "Christopher Pike."

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is Mirrorverse Archer/Number One/Pike. Yes, my Captain Archer here is that lovely fanonical asshole who is improbably young enough for such shenanigans, not anything resembling _Enterprise_ 's timeline canon. And yes, I broke one of my own rules here, but... what can I say, it's Mirrorverse. I figured some power couple had to meet this way, sometime, and end up liking each other despite/because of it. Now that I've posted the story -- did I justify my decisions enough?
> 
> This all started with [this erotic photo](http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l4bidsgTZe1qzw5u3o1_500.jpg) which I found on Sex Is Not The Enemy (also [here](http://www.flickr.com/photos/3d4/4689486413/in/photostream/)), a picture truly worth a thousand words. I could have written several different MMF threesomes about it but decided to write this one... because.
> 
> Also, the best lines in here are to Possibly_Thrice's credit.


End file.
